Chapter TwoAT THE END OF THE WORKDAY, Whitney packed up her things. She was bringing work home, as always. Tonight she felt especially weak from lack of food, but every time she thought about eating, her mind switched over to the image of this complete stranger with her head caved in, scalp chewed up, hair matted with blood.
Oh Lord, what an awful image.
She couldn’t switch it off, couldn’t get it out of her mind. She wasn’t even sure where this picture had come from. The news broadcast hadn’t included a picture of the victim, or even a name. They couldn’t do that until next of kin had been contacted. All they released was that she was a young woman in her twenties. Maybe that was enough for Whitney to feel close to her.
“Wait up!” Norma called as Whitney strode toward the el
